The Jarro
by Two-Bits
Summary: Don’t get me wrong. I’m no homophobe. But it is a bit degrading when you find out that you’ve been going steady with a fag.


It's me again. One-shot, dedicated to my love for REAL dance, even if I don't actually take.

Disclaimer: Don't own Dutchy, Mush, or Kid Blink. I do own Two-Bits (if you can own yourself), Boomerang owns herself, I own Hector Collins, and I own The Jarro.

"The Jarro"

"Ya want another one?" the girl asked, as I drained my glass. I nodded, pushing the glass away from me. She took the glass and poured another cup of Guiness, then put it on a drip board, before resuming polishing a shot glass with a rag.  
I was sitting in the bar on the corner of Bleecker Street called The Jarro. It was an Irish joint, run by a bunch of Manhattan kids my age. Not really legal, but they had fake ID's.  
The place was uncoordinated, but a popular place, as the owner, Jack Kelly, had connections with the most popular forms of entertainment. I was considering applying for a job here. The place paid well, twenty bucks an hour, which was plenty, and best of all, there was no dress code.  
"Wanna talk about it?" she asked, setting the glass in front of me after topping it off. I shook my head.  
"Nah. It's nothin', really. Me boyfriend jist cheated on me," I say, nonchalently. She nodded, knowingly.  
"Ouch. I'se sorry tah hea dat. But, I'se got woirk tah do. Wave me down if ya wanna talk, or if ya want annudda drink, kay?" Nodding, I watched her walk away, before studying the glass, watching the dim light reflect off the amber light, my thoughts on my ex-boyfriend.  
Hector Collins was a sweet, sensitive boy with dark skin, chocolate brown hair, and shining hazel eyes. He had the charm to melt anyone's heart. He had begged me to take dance sessions with him, saying it would allow us to spend more time together, So, I agreed, and it wasn't until we were on our eleventh month that I realized he was cheating on me with the instructor. The male instructor.  
Don't get me wrong. I'm no homophobe. But it is a bit degrading when you find out that you've been going steady with a fag. I haven't danced since. And, as if to add insult to injury, Hector came running to me last Wednesday, asking for me back.  
"Wanna dance?" someone asked, interrupting my thoughts. I didn't look up. My shoulders had tensed, and I simply shook my head 'no.' I felt a hand on my shoulder, and the owner of it twisted me around so I was facing him.  
He was gorgeous.  
He had beach-blonde hair that fell into his eyes, a slim, yet strong figure, a brilliant smile, and half-moon spectacles perched on his nose. Most people go for the hunky, muscly, surfer type. Not me. I have weird tastes. I felt the corners of my mouth tug upwards in a smile, and I fought them down, but without prevail.  
"Ya shoah? Boomerang said youse was in a bad mood. I'se figured a liddle dancin' would cheer ya up." I looked over at the girl I had been talking to, who smiled, encouragingly.  
"Nah. Dancin' is the last thing I wanna do," I said, my spirits sagging at the realization that he was just pitying me. He straddled the stool next to me, and I leaned back against the bar, propping my elbows up on it, and drumming my fingers on the under-side of the wood.  
"Why? Dancing is like, the best thing that ever happened to the world!" I laughed. That was probably the sentence with the most bullshit in it ever.  
"Yeah, right. Hip-hop's the thing that's corrupted our world!" I replied, sardonically. I smiled.  
"No, not hip-hop! I mean real dancing. Ya know, like...tap, balley, salsa..."  
"You salsa?" I interrupted, suddenly. He nodded, sheepishly.  
"Yeah. Kinda' corny, I know, but I really like it..." he said, blushing. I smiled, my first real smile in months. Man, this guy was good!  
"No, not at all. I...I actually salsa dance. I took a bunch of danxe sample sessions, and salsa kinda' stuck with me. Well, that and tap. But that was before my boyfriend..." I stopped talking.  
"You have a-a boyfriend?" he stammered, sounding...was that disappointment? No way. Only in my dreams.  
"Ex-boyfriend," I corrected with a sigh. "I dated him for a year. He was real sweet, and I totally fell for him. But, turns out, he fell for our instructor. Our male instructor. I walked in on them making out after class one day."  
"Ouch. But, you're not a..."  
"Homophobe? Nah. One of my best friends is gay, but he doesn't realize it. He's been lusting after this other guy for weeks."  
"What's his name?" the boy asked, tilting his head, slightly. I forced myself to stop longing and start talking.  
"Mush Meyers. Ya know him?"  
"Know him? I was the one who hooked him up with Kid Blink!" he replied, laughing.  
"So they did hook up? Good. Man...I haven't talked to either of them in a while..." I mused, realizing that in my depression, I had become an introvert and left my friends behind when I needed them the most.  
"What's you name?"  
"Um...Two-Bits."  
"I'm Dutchy. I''ve got something to take care of real quick." I watched him walk away, bitter disappointment welling up in my stomach. He thinks I'm a total whiner, still not over Hector. Man...first time someone straight looks my way, I whine to him about my ex. Damnit, Two-Bits!  
"He's a cutie, ain't he?" I looked up. Boomer was back, with another beer. I smiled.  
"Yeah, but I blew it. I whined to him about my ex, and now he thinks I'm still not over him," I muttered.  
"Don't be so sure. Dutchy's a strange one. He's unpredictable," Boomer said with a smile. Suddenly, a familiar, latin-y song started up, and I sat up straighter, a smile curling my lips.  
"Wanna dance?" Dutchy said for the second time. Boomer grinned.  
"See what I mean? Unpredictable."

La Fine


End file.
